Sanitarium
by Pigwidgeon15
Summary: Incomplete Harry woke to a world that doesn't seem real. What really is real? What does reality really mean?


Harry groaned tentatively bringing a hand to his head. Pressing his palm to his forehead did nothing to stop the pounding inside his skull. After a moment he cracked open his eyes only to press them tightly shut against the blinding white light that seared his retinas. Grumbling to himself he rolled over and pressed his face back into his pillow.

"Come on, Harry. Time to get up."

"No," he mumbled. Perhaps he shouldn't have had those shots with Seamus last night, or that spiked punch, or those few beers. His head pounded, his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton wool and he knew his stomach was going to want to make an appearance some time soon.

Hermione said something else. It was always Hermione. A few key words including 'late' and 'food' penetrated his muddled brain.

"Sat..day," he grumbled, vaguely remembering what day of the week it was as he snuggled down further. For all of about three seconds.

"Up," she said again, this time flinging back the blankets. "You don't want to be late for breakfast again. It will be cold."

Breakfast was never cold. Something didn't feel right.

Harry was suddenly wide awake flipping over on his mattress. His eyes darted around wildly. He was most definitely not in Gryffindor Tower. The room was small, white and bare. At the end of the bed, back to him, was a woman in a white coat.

'Oh god. Oh god,' he thought. He'd been captured by death eaters. Mind running at a hundred miles an hour he started looking around for his wand, or a weapon of some kind. That woman, whatever she was preparing, she would soon use on him. He had to get out but knew there was no chance of making it out the door without being caught first. There was nothing. The room was as bare as could be. Except for his bed sheets. He could strangle the death eater with his sheets, but before he could so much as get a grip on the white cotton the woman had turned around. It was Professor McGonagall. He could see as much even without his glasses.

"Professor," he whispered, "where are we?"

"At Hogwarts of course," she answered, placing a folded bundle on the end of his bed.

"What's going on?"

Something was unbelievably wrong and Professor McGonagall was telling him nothing. Where were they? This was most definitely not Hogwarts. And where was his wand? He could do nothing without his wand or his glasses. He knew that.

Had death eaters taken him hostage? Had they be spelled Professor McGonagall? No, she was too strong for that. It must have been a death eater in disguise under the effect of Polyjuice potion. Harry wasn't going to be fooled that easily.

"What's happening is you're getting dressed."

Harry looked up to see the Professor open the door with a key attached to the belt under her white robe. As she exited she left the door open a fraction. Why would a death eater do that?

Where she was standing was a small table the size of a desk hinged to the door on the opposite wall. In the corner opposite the door was a surveillance camera behind a glass plane, or perhaps it was Perspex, in the corner of. There were no weapons, no way to defend himself. Unless... why would McGonagall tell him to get dressed, she had left glasses and hadn't locked the door. Perhaps she couldn't _say_ anything. She told him to get dressed, to get ready and then left him with a way out. That must be it. She was being manipulated but she had gotten the message him, to escape. He had to act fast. She said he would be _late,_ didn't she? Too late to get out. Harry reached for his glasses.

The room around him flickered like a distorted television show. Suddenly he was sitting in his bed at Hogwarts, the blankets wrapped around his waist.

"Ron, you have to get up," he said as he scrambled out of bed over to his friends, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him awake.

"Urrg," groaned Ron. "It's early to go flying. It's Saturday." The redhead rolled over and promptly began snoring.

Something was very wrong. His painful headache was gone and he didn't feel the slightest bit hung-over. What could...._Voldemort_. He was playing tricks on Harry's mind. Making him see things, believe things that weren't real. But what was real? Was this real or was the white room real. Concentrating he tried to strengthen his Occulumency shields against his invading presence.

"Nothing. Blackness. Cold. Nothingness," he murmured to himself. For several moments he stood there still, concentrating on nothing but the shields around his mind and pushing Voldemort out. Keeping him out.

When he finally opened his eyes all he could see was white. Nothing but white until he realised he was standing with his nose two inches from the white wall. Stumbling back he glanced around the white room that held him prisoner once again. This must be what was real. He had to act fast, to escape.

Doing what McGonagall said he pulled on the new clothes, a pair of long, light blue cotton pants and a similar, slightly oversized shirt. They reminded him of the scrubs he had seen doctors on television wear. Pushing on his glasses he crept to the door, opening it just far enough to peek out.

The doorway led to a pale blue hallway. Opposite the room were identical white doors against down the hallway. Harry poked his head out a bit further. Next to his door were identical doors down the hallway. Several people wearing the same blue pants and tops as him. The two boys he saw were walking in the other direction down the hall. One turned and looked at him but only kept walking without saying a word. Not fearing he was about to be found out he snuck out of the room closing the door behind him. He glanced both ways down the hallway but the Professor was nowhere to be seen. To the left were the two boys continued down the hallway. A bit further down the hall on the right hand side was a low bench behind which sat someone with their head down. The end of the hall curved around a corner where the two boys disappeared.

To his left more blue clad people were walking the hall. At the end was a set of double doors with the sign 'Exit' above it. Ducking his head he began to slowly walk down the hall, his pace matching that of the others. Lifting his head he glanced up in time to see Crabbe Snr. walk out of a corridor a few feet ahead wearing white pants and top. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he hastily turned and started walking in the opposite direction, his heart pounding. He glanced up again. There were three more death eaters dressed in white like Crabbe Snr., holding wands walking in his direction. His breath caught in his throat as his heart began pounding in his ears. His head screamed at him to run as fast as he could away from them but instead he turned and with all his strength began walking slowly after Crabbe Snr.

For what seemed an eternity he followed. One bare foot in front of the other. The linoleum was cold. It seemed to leech the warmth from his entire body. The smell of pine disinfectant assaulted his nose. Thunderously loud voices echoed in his ears over the roaring of his own blood. Harry dared to look up again in time to see the Death Eater raise his arm towards the wall. The heavy dark blue doors gave an ominous metallic click as they unlocked. Steadily Harry increased his pace in order to slip his hand in the doorway to stop door from closing and locking once again. Glancing through the small rectangular pane of glass he watched as Crabbe Snr. disappeared through another doorway before slipping between the double doors and allowing them to click shut behind him. This door way was darker, the walls cream and the over head lights few and far between.

Up ahead he could see a luminescent sign that read 'Fire Escape'. 'Out!' his mind screamed. His feet followed his head and began to speed up.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" said a voice from behind. Harry's head spun back. A white clad man stood in the hallway as one of the doorways closed clicked shut. A Death Eater he didn't recognize. Automatically his instincts clicked in and he ran towards the fire stairwell.

"Stop him!" He was close. So close. Suddenly arms wrapped around his waist lifting him from the ground.

"No!" he shouted, kicking out. His hands scratched at the strong arms around his midsection. He bucked wildly but the arms would not ease their pressure.

"Code Yellow. East Wing maintenance." He was so close

"Let go of me," he growled as he tried to fling his head back and hit his captor but to no avail. People began to pour from the double doors. People dressed in white. He shouted. Suddenly the arms around him slackened a little as one of his kicks made contact with a shin. He grabbed a hand twisting the fingers backwards. The Death Eater shouted as he dropped Harry.

Scrambling he made for the stairwell before more sets of hands than he could count descended on him. Flipping onto his back and pinning him to the ground.

"No. Let go."

"Hold his feet."

Brown red hair moved in and out the lights hanging from the ceiling.

"Hold him still."

Something pierced his side. A needle he saw as she pulled away.

His strength was sapped from his limbs as he struggled, both against them and the darkness that was closing in on his mind. He couldn't let them win. Harry had to save the world.

"It is going to be okay, Harry." He looked up at the woman. "Relax".

He managed a single word before the darkness completely engulfed him. "Mum?"

Harry had a surreal sense of déjà vou as he awoke, only this time he couldn't lift his hand to try to his head to ease his headache. As he opened his eyes he realised he was back in the white room though now his hands and feet were strapped down, as was his chest. Again his glasses were missing. Again there was someone in the room with him. Trying to lift his head high enough to see past his toes was definitely a mistake as firstly he couldn't lift his head high enough to see, secondly he didn't have his glasses and thirdly doing so sent a massive, searing bolt of pain to his head.

"Hello, Harry." The voice barely managed to through his pain ridden brain.

A groan escaped his lips as his head lolled to one side. The woman he guessed, must have pressed a button at the bottom of the bed for his upper half began to rise, moving him slowly to a sitting position. The room swam before his eyes. The image of an auburn haired woman swam before his eyes. Harry thought she looked familiar.

"It's good to see that you're awake again."

Her voice. He knew her voice from somewhere, but couldn't place it. Thinking, Harry realised, hurt. A lot. So instead he closed his eyes trying to quell the waves of nausea that swamped him.


End file.
